I'm Only Sleeping
by kweenofalldreams13
Summary: "You always want what you cannot have," he said.  Yes, he was my Romeo, and I was Juliet.  I, the lonely girl with a buried past, and he, the true impression of a forgotten life, could in no possible way be united.  But somehow, in that house, it happened
1. Friends Forever

**Friends Forever**

"Wendy!" I squealed, throwing my arms around my best friend in the whole wide world.

"Jules! Whoa, since when has Juliet DiMarco been a _babe_?" she screamed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet and scanning me from bottom to top. "You look amazing. _And_ you've lost weight. Good job, told you those treadmill sessions would pay off." I grinned and rolled my eyes at the same time. Little did she know that I hadn't lost that much weight and that there was still a lot more to lose.

"Enough about my voluptuous figure," I excused, waving her off and picking my luggage up. "Where's this awesome family we're off to see? Plus the little boogers, of course." She pointed to a small gathering of people by the door. I dragged my bags (running, not to mention) over to the exit of the terminal and attacked Sara first. She laughed at me, ruffling my hair as she pulled away. She didn't look much older than I last saw her, except for a few more grey hairs and smile lines around her mouth.

"Nice to see you haven't changed much since I last saw you, Jules," Sara giggled, trying to take one of my bags from me. I shook my head.

"No, no, I'm the one burdening myself on your temporary house, now. I'll take my own bags to the car. Thank you so much for letting me stay with you guys this summer. There would have been _nothing_ to do if I were back at home. Aside from my birthday." I still had a lot of time for my birthday: it was mid-June and July 21st was a long way away. "So where'd we park the classic Campbell family SUV?"

"Just outside," Peter answered. His smile was just a little bit less wide than Sara's. I assumed this was because he was getting over his drinking issues still. I followed them outside and lugged my cases into the trunk. Honestly, if any family could have a car any bigger, I don't know what I'd do.

As we filed into the car, my eyes fell on the squirts. Also known as boogers, brats, vermin, Rugrats, and ankle-biters. Over the years, and please don't tell anyone this, I'd forgotten their names. It wasn't like I didn't know them, it was just that, out of babysitting, all Wendy and I'd ever called them was all listed above. The girl was a little bit more mature than the boy, as it'd always been, but they were so _big_ now. No longer ankle-biters, but belly button-biters or something like that. Nah. _Ankle-biters_ had such an original ring to it.

And then there was Matt. Poor kid.

He was paler than I last saw him, and skinnier too. He had that dreadfully tired look about him, with dark circles under his eyes and a layer of sweat always coating his forehead. Otherwise he looked pretty happy about me being there, but tired, too. Thankfully his hair had grown back in and he was doing some kind of different radiation treatment now. Cancer was awful and Matt and I were the ones who would know best.

But that's a story for another day.

Anyway, Matt patted my shoulder enthusiastically and shone me a grin.

"Nice to have ya with us, kid," he joked. My eyes narrowed. _He was going to play that card, now was he?_ "You know," he added, digging himself a bigger hole with every word his mouth formed. My fists clenched. "For how long it's been, you haven't gotten much taller, Jules." I pinched his arm. "Ow! I didn't say the S word!"

"But you were _insinuating_ it. And we don't use the S word. We all know I am _vertically challenged_." The words came out in hisses and I turned away from him. Wendy snorted.

"You two argue like a brother and sister," Sara remarked, shaking her head. "You haven't been together for ten minutes and already you're at it." Her happy green eyes met mine through the rearview mirror. "Before you know it, he'll be pulling her hair and she'll beat him with her Barbies."

"Just like in kindergarten," Wendy sang, trying to get the boogers to stay orderly. Peter laughed richly, his hands shaking on the steering wheel.

"Just _exactly_ like kindergarten." I was sniggering too, but deep inside, I felt nice. There was no better family to go to Matt than the rest of the Campbells. They were so...well-rounded, sweet, clean-cut. So American. A flash of the past crept into my head.

_Bases loaded. Two outs. Three balls, two strikes. The ninth inning. Losing ten to seven._

_The pitcher took the windup, kicking out his leg before a flick of the wrist, and the ball was fat, juicy meat, even as it swerved to the outside corner. My arms extended. The bat cracked against the Wiffle ball and it soared past the left fielder's head. My legs were thick and burning as I screamed around the bases. I roared back into home plate with my arms in the air._

_"This game is rigged!" Matt yelled mock-angrily, throwing his plastic glove against the fence with a rattle. "I don't believe it!"_

_"Believe it, Mattie!" I teased him, dancing to Sara's little makeshift table, with cups of icy cold Gatorades and enormous slices of watermelon. "What's going on, barkeep?"_

_"Good hit. You stink."_

_"I know. The price of being a stud," I boasted, throwing down the Gatorade like...well, Gatorade. Wendy cocked an eyebrow. "Hey, it's not my fault I was born with a natural athlete's genes."_

_"You are too much, Jules," Wendy pointed out the obvious, rolling her eyes. "And yes, you are a natural athlete. We all know it."_

_"And you should."_

Ah, all those summers ago. Good times, real good times. They were an American family if I ever saw one. I bet they'd stick together no matter what happened. I bet...


	2. Shoot to Thrill

**Shoot to Thrill**

Sara showed me around the house first, like she was a realtor and I was a potential buyer. The room I liked the least (thankfully) was Matt's room, and that was great because _I didn't have to stay there_. It was a kind of creepy little basement room. When I first walked in, I was thinking of a circle kind of thing, like they did in the '70s. But then...I don't know, a shiver kind of ran through my back and I had to get out.

"Now, this is only a temporary settlement, but we've set up a bed for you in Wendy's room, so there won't be too much space for each of you. I hope you'll be comfortable here," Sara said in an apologetic tone. I shook my head at her.

"Don't worry about it, Sara. Thanks so much for tolerating me. I'm sure I'll love it here–" My eyes flickered over to the corner of the room, where–

Skin charred and hair singed, eyebrows that hung off the top of the eyes, which were frightening enough on their own, a blue that was too bright to be humanly possible. But if one thing was true, this figure wasn't human or possible by any standards. The face was blackened but showed hints of masculinity. The thing stood up and it–

"Juliet, are you okay?" Sara inquired, putting a hand on my arm, her face rearranged into a concerned expression. Couldn't she see him?

"Don't you see–" I waved my hand at the thing, but...it was...gone? "–that I _love_ this room? It is great." Yes, it was a lie. No, there was no way I could have imagined that...that...deformity. It was real, it was right there, and it was something that could not have been explained by science or math or deductive reasoning. It was something else, something I didn't even know how to sort out.

"Alright. Well, I'm going to take Matt to treatment and Peter is at work. Wendy's downstairs with the kids, and feel free to make yourself at home. Are you sure you're okay?"

-_Well? Aren't you going to tell her the truth?_

"Yeah, I'm great. Thanks so much again, Sara. If it weren't for you, my summer would be no fun."

-_Fine. Keep lying to her, keep lying to yourself, but you know you can't lie to me._

-Leave me alone. Can't you see I'm doing so much better than when you follow me _everywhere_? Just leave me alone for once.

-_Leave you alone? You don't like to be alone, Juliet. You've never liked being alone. Besides, what if that thing shows up again? You can't be alone at a time like that._

-Go away, stop taunting me! I hate myself when you're here, I hate you more than anything I've ever experienced in my life so just leave. You're not doing anyone any good by being here so just get out.

Sara had gone. I was on my knees, my arms wrapped around myself, trying to keep the tears and the bile from rising inside me. I was alone now, with her, the one person I never wanted to be alone with, the person that took three years of therapy just to shut up. She wasn't that thing, she wasn't close to it, but she scared me a lot more than a torched body or a good scary movie.

She was me in the rawest, most terrifying way. She was tall and skinny, with cheekbones that I didn't have and red eyes that I knew weren't mine. But still, my face belonged to her, the one thing I couldn't get back however desperately I wanted it. She almost killed me when I was fourteen and since then I never wanted to be around her. She wore a tight black dress with long black elbow gloves and a big hat to shield her head from the sun. There was venom in her mouth instead of spittle, and no matter how you looked at it, she was evil.

-_Look at the scum you are. Look at the filthy fat you've let yourself become_.

She drank like a heavyweight and wore all the best clothes, the best accessories, and could buy anything she ever wanted. She had long, dark hair that she always left down and her large, almond-shaped scarlet eyes were always enough to make anyone uncomfortable with a good long stare. Her smirk was dangerous. She could outrun any car, truck, motorcycle, airplane. The two things she wasn't good at were eating and cooking. Because she took time and energy to stay skinny, and because she purposely burnt everything she cooked. She didn't like food or watching me eat food. She was my coach, my biggest fan when I managed to skip meals days in a row, and nagging and screaming when I disobeyed her.

-_I'll nag and scream as long as I please to get you smaller._

-Just stop, okay? Is it that hard to notice that I'm happy now, without you always messing everything up?

-_You don't know the meaning of happiness._

-Nor do you, so please go away.

Her tongue flicked out from between her teeth like a snake's, but she kept quiet in the shadows, at least for now.

Now that I was back to the somewhat normal world, I felt that it had gotten a lot colder in my and Wendy's room. Even though the sun was still clear outside, even though it looked warm and pleasant, I was freezing now. And it couldn't have been my imagination, either, because every breath blew out foggy clouds before my mouth. I was suddenly aware of my surroundings, the two beds placed against opposite walls, the closet door ajar and the mirror reflecting me, and behind me–

That thing again. It was walking to me. Neither of the arms were outstretched, no loud scary music played in the background. It was just walking, like an old friend from school that wanted to catch up with me when he hadn't seen me in ages. And when I turned around, it was still there. I closed my eyes. Breathing. Breathing. Air in, air out. I opened them again. The thing was gone, replaced by a boy.

The only thing identical about the black thing and the boy was the eyes, the bright, shining beautiful cerulean pools. The boy was just slightly taller than the black figure, with fair skin and a baby-face. The hair was dark brown and shaggy around the neck but the bangs just barely brushed his eyes. His lips were pressed into a thin line. He wore a starchy white collared shirt and stiff dress pants and shiny dress shoes. He was tall, about as tall as Matt, if not taller. His lips curved upward to form the ghost of a smile, if you'll forgive the pun.

"Afternoon, Miss," he whispered, then, taking my hand in his, it was soft, too soft, planted a kiss on the backside of it.

"What _are_ you?" The words escaped. And I was worried about offending him. Let me make this clear: I was frightened that I had offended this boy who'd come into my bedroom of out nowhere. To my consolation, he chuckled, and cradled my face with his free hand.

"They call me Jonah. And you must be Juliet. 'Speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, as is a winged messenger of heaven, unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, and sails upon the bosom of air.'" He sighed, and I actually felt the air on my cheek. "Forgive my audacity. But do take my words into consideration: you are a beautiful being, Juliet. It distresses me that I may not be your Romeo." He came closer, and kissed my forehead. And I blinked again. Jonah had vanished.

As if he'd never been there in the first place.


	3. Highway to Hell

**Highway To Hell**

"Damn it!" I heard Matt curse from downstairs, after a crash that sounded like breaking glass. I almost laughed. I hadn't told anyone about the incident with what shouldn't have been real. What I had to have hallucinated due to _her_. I hadn't even told Wendy, and she was supposed to be my best friend. She didn't know about my illness, though, what the doctors called my illness. It wasn't my illness, it was _hers_.

"Matthew," Sara's voice mentioned in a warning tone. This time I did laugh. Wait for it...

"Sorry, Mom," I muttered in unison with Matt, but the next part Matt was improvising. "Where's Jules anyway? Isn't she always in the mood for food?" I smiled, but _she _quirked an incredulous eyebrow.

-_Not anymore, you're not._

-Sh. I want to hear this.

-_Hell, why not? You're already crazy with your hallucinations about that weird boy of yours._

But then, when I strained my ears to hear what was going on downstairs, I heard nothing. Well, it wasn't nothing, but it was a blur of voices and words all mixing together to make everything indistinct. I wrapped my blankets around myself tighter, hoping that somehow I'd have a way to drown _her_ out. It was her fault I was still up here. She'd told Sara (through my voice) that I wasn't hungry. She was making me starve again, and do something that I never wanted to do again.

"What did you all do today, Wendy?" Sara asked. The kids (Mary and Billy–ha!) giggled.

"Sh! We mostly played outside and Jules taught them this one song from her Bible camp back home. She has the songs in these cassette tapes in her luggage." Wendy laughed at me, and I could just see her rolling her eyes at me, too. "When you're just talking to Jules, she seems the same as before, but she's really matured over these years. She said she went to the hospital for a few separate years. She was...weak, mentally, she said. I missed her, though. It's nice having her around."

"Well, I'm glad you like having her around, Wendy," Sara said. "I'm sure she's just trying to settle in right now. We all had a bit of a tough time getting settled."

"Can I be excused, please?" Matt was whining, and I say that because his voice was high and drawn-out. His footsteps echoed loudly as he ran from the table and into what I can only assume was the bathroom, because after, the loud sounds of his retching and coughing reverberated in my ears. I pulled my pillow more securely around my head until the sound of vomiting had gone. I shut my eyes and tried to relax myself into sleep. Right as everything began to fall away, something else sounded in my head.

"'Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast. Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest. Hence will I to my own ghostly cell, and into slumber my dear Juliet hath fell.'"

"That part's wrong," I mumbled, muffled by my pillow. "You're going off-text." The voice chuckled.

"It fits better into this context, love, with you here and as I have no ghostly father, but indeed a ghostly cell. 'I would were I thy bird, yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it be morrow.' Yes, Juliet, I know that's the woman's role. Sleep now, love."

"'At what o'clock tomorrow shall I send to thee?'" I finished, feeling the numbness start to soak in through my veins. The last the voice said became very cloudy.

"'At the hour of nine,' love. Now, please sleep."

-_He'll ruin everything,_ she spat, venom coursing through her blood vessels.

She was right. With a male presence I was unstoppably attracted to, even an imaginary one, her bond and mine would be tested to the extremes. He would come between us and she was about to get a lot harder on me than she'd been in the past. I was going to hell and back.


	4. Too Close for Comfort

**Too Close for Comfort**

"Are you feeling well, Jules? You seem a little bit off, honey." Sara put her hand up against my forehead. "You feel hot. You're pale, too. Go back to bed, hon, and I'll bring you soup."

"No, I'm okay, Sara. I'll just make myself some Top Ramen and maybe I'll have a run after. Sometimes exercise can get me feeling a lot better." I reached for the black pot in the cupboards' top shelf. "Thanks a lot, Sara, you've done so much for me and letting me stay with you guys over the summer...my parents didn't even want me around this summer!" I joked.

"It's no problem, honey. You're a good girl. Everyone likes having you around."

"Except me!" Matt called, walking by to get a bottle of his formula. "I think you suck, Juliet. _And_ you smell." I whacked him in the shoulder as he passed.

"Brat."

"Runt." There he went again, with the puns at my expense to my lack of certain height. I set down the pot on the counter with the noodles and the flavor packet resting in the center and sauntered over toward Matt at his place at the table. "Can I help you, little lady?" he mocked me in a southern accent. I slapped him across the side of the head. "Why, shorty, why do you hurt me so?" That was it.

I snapped.

Now, before you go and think that I'm just normally temperamental and violent like that, let me backtrack. This was earlier in the morning than I had been accustomed to waking up. And I was just days away from my time of the month. Hence, I had to have been PMS-ing. But when I woke up from my temporary trance, I was pummeling Matt against his chair.

"Jules, Jules, stop! Jesus, I didn't know you could hit that good, God! Now could you get off me? You win. I won't call you short anymore."

"I–Matt, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I just–I–I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me. I never meant to–I'm _so_ sorry, Matt," I babbled, backing up away from him. "Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?" He laughed it off, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just...something just happened."

"Jules, don't worry. I'm not hurt. You've just, uh, gotten a little bit stronger since I last fought you. But don't worry. Soon as this treatment stops, I'll be back up and atcha." I chewed my knuckle and watched him. How could I have done something that stupid? "Listen, Jules, I'm not mad or hurt or whatever you're trying to make me out to be. I'm perfectly okay. Don't worry."

"It was just so _weird_. I didn't even know what I was doing. I'm sorry." He rolled his eyes at me and I put up my hands in surrender. "Okay. Fine, I won't worry." I looked down and added in an undertone, "much."

Matt stepped behind me, churning his hands into my back. The knots were suddenly fading and slithering into oblivion. Sara waved her goodbye, as she slung on her bag over her shoulder. I lay my head down on the table, and Matt nearly put me to sleep. I was dozing, still somewhat conscious, but groggy and I felt waterlogged. And then, as I let myself fall into a daze and into vulnerability, she returned.

-_So dramatic_, she sighed, picking lazily at her fingernails until each cuticle met her meticulous standards. _You haven't told Matt either, have you now? Such a shame, that he's got cancer. He really is a very interesting boy._ My back was stiffening unpleasantly, and Matt ceased his back rub.

"You okay?" he inquired, concern filling his dark eyes. I stood up, treading over to my forgotten package of ramen in its pot. I prepared it, and she started hissing at me in a wicked tone.

-_Do you know what you'll be like after you finish that? You'll be even fatter than you are now. You'll be enormous, you'll be gigantic, you'll–_

-**Please leave her alone**, said a new voice, and I froze, my fingers clutching the handle very precariously. This new person had a voice quite unlike mine; it was male, and timid, and sounded awfully familiar, but I knew it wasn't Matt or Peter or Billy. She was seething, her eyes ablaze at how he had interfered on her barrage of insults.

-_How dare you stick your filthy ghost nose into my business? How dare you intrude into my sanctuary?_ She was screaming at him, but yet no longer in control. And he was still a ghost, still just an imprint of a departed soul, but everything was quiet except their bickering, and he was standing strong in the corner behind Matt, his expression no longer affectionate or happy, but hard and protective.

"Jonah," I mumbled, holding my hands over my mouth as he approached her, glaring her in the face and sidestepping in front of me so that he could be sure that she wouldn't hurt me. She raised her hand, as if to hit him, but something in her ruby red eyes flickered, and she couldn't.

The two of them dissolved into the air as the clock struck nine.


	5. Dead!

**Dead!**

Over the course of the day, Wendy spent most of her time in our room while Matt and I took over for her in playing with the kids. I taught Mary how to braid hair and Billy how to steal Wendy's food when she wasn't looking at lunch. I drew the line at tag in the house, but we did end up playing hide and seek _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ style, due to the enormity of the house. Thanks to C.S. Lewis, I found an empty old wardrobe and almost entirely shut the door, like how Lucy and Edmund had taught me to do. When Wendy joined in, she was it.

I hummed calmly to myself in the wardrobe, half-hoping that my Romeo would arrive, so I could thank him for this morning. The other half was praying that Romeo would have forgotten the really ugly side of my personality. The first half was the one that was right.

It wasn't as though he had materialized out of thin air, which he had, but rather that he'd been there the whole time and I just hadn't paid enough attention to him. His cool hand brushed my cheek softly, and I coughed.

"You're ill, Juliet. You shouldn't be playing children's games while you're ill."

"Matt's ill. Matt has cancer. Matt's a lot more ill than I am," I protested, leaning against his chest as his arm slipped around me. Every detail was so normal, so human. His thumb stroked the skin of my arm, and I shivered. He hesitated, so I pressed my cheek into his shirt collar.

"Juliet, please," he begged, starting to push me to a considerable distance away from him. "You don't want to be involved with someone like me. I'm not human anymore. I wish I could have gone on. I don't want you to be involved with the things I've seen, what I've known. I cannot give you what others can." Jonah's words dug into my skin like knives, but his being about me was strong and comforting.

"May I ask...how you died?" I whispered, curling my knees up to my chest and fighting to keep the air in my chest. Jonah's eyes met mine, and they were big and blue and sad.

"It isn't a good tale, Juliet, it's horrible." I stared expectantly at him, hoping I could brave it. He sighed.

"We were doing a seance. Ramsey and four others and I. As Ramsey had intensified my powers, the spirits possessed me. It was painful and...it killed them. It destroyed them all. Ramsey was the closest to living. He told me to get out, that the others would be after me next. All the dead souls that he had desecrated. All the nonliving that he had stolen and profaned. That their anger would be directed at me now. And so it was. Chaos reigned upon the house, this house, and I tried to flee. I found no other escape but the dumbwaiter. I tried to exit through the crematory, but they shut it and began the fire. I burned to death. They remain in this house, unable to flee just as I was. They are still angry. I have tried over the years, but I have not yet been able to free them.

"They want your friend Matt. They want him, because he is weak, as I was. They believe I bound them here, that he and I are the same. I believe...that he and I are the same. Trapped by a force stronger and crueler than ourselves." He looked away from me, running his fingers along the wall of the wardrobe. An alerted expression took upon his face and he shifted forward, like a leopard into a hunting position. "The boy. The child, Billy. I must go."

He disappeared in a cold flash, and I was alone.

Moments later, I heard a faint scream, a continuous scream from Billy somewhere else in the house, where Jonah had gone to protect him from _them_–the others. I broke out of the wardrobe, fighting against the heavy coats to the entrance. It was coming from that piece of the hall at the end, near where the dumbwaiter was. I stumbled out of the wardrobe and to the dumbwaiter, where Billy was shouting.

"Billy?" I called, as he beat his fists against the doors. "Billy, stop banging! We'll get you out, okay?" I pried the dumbwaiter open, with Wendy on my heels, and Billy fell out, breathing heavily. He fumbled for my arms as reassurance, and his eyes were filled with fear. He was mumbling incoherently, and I rubbed his shoulders. "Sh, hey, it's okay, now, alright, Billy? It'll be alright–"

Another scream, one of a female form; Mary now. Wendy beat me up the stairs, as well as Matt, and Billy was following us. Mary was sunken by her leg into the floor of the attic. Wendy tried to keep her calm, and Matt dug her up out of the rotten floor. When he dug up a variety of papers and one dusty box, a sick feeling rushed up from the pits of my stomach and I collapsed on the rotten floor.


	6. While My Guitar Gently Weeps

**Disclaimer:** I have no association, affiliation, or ties with the movie A Haunting in Connecticut. The movie A Haunting in Connecticut is owned by Lionsgate Films. My only claim is over the pieces of the plot that differ from the original script and the OC Juliet. Likewise, all quotes from Romeo and Juliet belong to William Shakespeare. In this chapter, the song "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" belongs to George Harrison and the Beatles, and all past songs belong to their respective owners.

* * *

**While My Guitar Gently Weeps**

_-Didn't I tell you?_ she chirped in a snide voice, sitting cross-legged in front of me, her eyes dancing with self-righteousness. _Didn't I tell you that becoming involved with this paranormal shit would be the end of you? As well as letting yourself inflate into this useless bulk. You see, don't you? When you let yourself be led along by these things, when you consume into the gluttonous state you so enjoy, you are the one who loses. Don't you see? You cannot make your way without me. You cannot manage without me._

-You're right, I sighed, letting my head fall into her gentle, caressing hands, and allowing her long fingernails to dig into my scalp and massage me like a mother to a child. You're right, like always. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you before. You know what's best for me. I'll listen to you from now on, I promise.

-_You should, love. I'll make you beautiful, more beautiful than you have ever dreamt of being in your life. It will be just like it was back home. We'll be champions, we'll be stars, we'll rule the night with our perfect bodies. We'll be unstoppable, you and me!_ Though I wanted to push her away, her fingers in my hair were too good to resist, and even Jonah's begging eyes couldn't break me away from her.

-**Oh, Juliet**–

-_You shut up!_ she screeched at him, but didn't leave my side. Her screaming in my ears throbbed out a rhythm in my head. _This is your own fault, you stupid, prodding poltergeist! Leave us to ourselves. Let it be, you stupid, prodding poltergeist_, she hissed, petting my hair. I reached out for Jonah, but she held down my arm.

-**Oh, Juliet. "Arise fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art more fair than she**–"

-_STOP IT!_ she erupted, throwing herself at him and ripping at him. I knew she wanted him gone, but she could not have that, for he was tied to me.

-"**With love's light wings I did o'er-perch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt."** She pushed against his chest, but he walked directly through her, approaching me. His touch was not stone-cold, but warmer and gentler than hers, and it satisfied me too much more than hers. I relaxed into his white hands, and my eyes watered.

-Jonah, I whispered, leaning my head against his chest, soft but strong. Jonah, please. Jonah, don't leave me with her, please. Don't let her hurt me anymore, please, Jonah. Don't let her, Jonah, don't let her hurt me. He pressed his lips to my forehead and ran his hands down my arms.

-**I won't let her, Juliet. I won't let her hurt you anymore, love. She can't hurt you while I'm here. She's not going to hurt you. I'll keep her away, my love. She won't touch you while I'm here.** I took to his words, feeling that there was no way they were untrue, for he was Jonah. He knew what was right. He knew what would become of her and me and everything. And he would make it all right.

"Sleep," he convinced me, and she watched off to the side, tears dripping from her eyes. I had never seen her cry before. That angry expression, yes, it was often present. But tears were something she had never attempted, never once. I threw my arms around his neck and did as he told me.

* * *

_Juliet? Juliet, honey, can you hear me? Juliet, come on. Please get up, for me_.

Sara? Sara? Was that you?

_What's that, honey? Jone...Jonah? Wendy, has she ever mentioned a Jonah to you? A boyfriend or some boy at school or something?_

_No, she's never...she never mentioned anyone by that name. Jonah, was it, Aunt Sara? The name was Jonah?_

Wendy? Sara? Were they both there? Why weren't my eyes opening? Where was Jonah?

"Mmm?" I hummed, sitting up with a horrific ache in the back of my head. I groaned in pain, and lay back down. Sara and Wendy swooped down on me, asking too many questions at once. My head spun. "Slow down, guys. God."

"Oh, honey," Sara mumbled, running her fingers through my hair gently, kissing my forehead and holding me close to her. "You feeling any better? Wendy said you passed out when you guys were playing hide and seek with Billy and Mary."

"I'm okay, just a little bit dizzy. Dinner gonna be soon? I'm freaking hungry." They laughed at me, and Wendy patted my shoulder with tears in her eyes.

"It should be done soon, loser. You ready for it? You seemed a little sick before, kid." She ruffled my hair gently, and nudged me softly. They got up, holding out hands to help me up myself. I shook my head adamantly, pushing my hands hard against the bed.

"Could you guys give me a second? I'll be ready to eat in a little while, I just need a minute on my own." Wendy nodded, and Sara squeezed my shoulder once more. They exited out the door and shut it behind them, leaving me alone in silence. I breathed deeply, looking about the room. "Jonah?" I whispered, and a soft hand fell down upon mine. His eyes were huge and sad and were dripping with ghostly liquids.

"Juliet, I'm so sorry. You won't have to deal with her anymore, I swear to you, my love. She'll never be around you anymore, she'll never hurt you again. You'll live in peace, Juliet, she will never interfere with your life ever again." He pressed his lips to my hair, and went into the thicket of it over and over, until I turned to him and rammed my mouth onto his hard, my fingers on his shoulders. In the beginning, he replied with fervor, crushing his being onto mine, holding me close to him, and running his hand down my back and migrating to my side, resting down on my hip. And then, he released me, flinging himself away from me.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, putting my hands into my lap, missing the feel of his unreal lips upon mine. Jonah nodded, backing away still very slowly, twisting his hands together uncomfortably. "Jonah, I really–I am, it was my fault. I just...I think maybe sometimes I want too much..."

"I understand, Juliet, I completely understand...I'm so sorry. It can't be, I know, but...sometimes I wish we could." He came closer again, lying beside me and holding my neck, with my face pressed against his chest. And then, he tried to run his hand down my cheek and it floated through. It was the first time he had tried to do something with me physically and failed. He held me closer, or attempted at least, and I just slipped through like he was fading. "I must go. I'm sorry, I feel as though something horrible is about to happen. I need to hold them back. I'm sorry," he whispered, and then he was gone.

I walked cautiously to the door, feeling the floor beneath me so carefully. It felt fragile and I didn't trust it to support me. I didn't trust the walls, the doors, the table and the chairs at dinner. We all prepared to say grace, but as I fixed my hand into Matt's, a jolt zinged up my arm and into my chest and we were no longer Matt and Juliet. He was Jonah and I...I was nothing, a flicker of light hovering above the scene, and there was somewhere a flicker beside me. It was Matt, and I felt our connection back to now, the tingle that told me they were still with us somewhere, that Billy, Mary, Wendy, Sara, Peter, they were still all waiting for us to just snap out of it.

Jonah glanced at us nervously, and then he began to twitch uncontrollably, shaking, his extremities jerking so that he looked as though he was having a seizure, but then, something ugly and terrible happened.

His face, previously arranged into a horribly pained expression, went entirely slack, and his head dropped down onto the table before him, our table, and he continued to convulse, but this time, as his head lay down on the table, from his mouth dribbled a clear, saliva-like substance. And he sat back straight up. He looked like he was in pain again, and he seemed to vomit up some new substance, and it hung precariously in the air. The woman beside him smirked, looking as though she felt...powerful. I shut my eyes tight and my throat closed up. And then my hand slipped out of Matt's and the spark was broken.

When we got back, it felt like more than time was distorted–my ears were ringing painfully and my head swirled and I felt like I was going to pass out again, or throw up. Jonah sat in the corner, in burnt form, his head hanging shamefully down so that he could stare into his lap. Matt excused himself, and Wendy followed quickly, but I sat there in a daze, with the rest of them, minus Jonah, all gaping at either me or the door the two of them had just exited through. I quickly swallowed down two bites of Sara's meatloaf and gulped down a sip of water before pushing myself away from the table, muttering some excuse, and dashing up the stairs to vomit it all back up.

I rested my head against the cold toilet seat, reaching for the flusher with a quivering hand. The chunky brownish stuff swirled all down, all away, and for a moment, a feline-like face was reincarnated in my mind. She disappeared with a sneer and I tried to rid my brain of her once more. Her laugh echoed in my ears, and my stomach heaved once more.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I washed my face and brushed the puke out of my mouth. The figure in the mirror had become _her_, but the figure looked thinner, if that was possible, frailer, and gaunt. She was no longer glamorous or beautiful, but pitiful and ugly. I looked away, and hummed anything that would get my mind off her.

_I look at the world_

_And I notice it's turning_

_While my guitar gently weeps._

_With every mistake_

_We must surely be learning_

_Still my guitar gently weeps..._

-**Oh, Juliet**...


	7. Nowhere Man

**Disclaimer:** All I own is Juliet, my OC and her basic plot. The Haunting in Connecticut belongs to Lionsgate Films and Children of the Corn belongs to Stephen King. If I somehow come upon ownership of either, I'll let you know :)

**Note:** I know it's been forEVVERRRRRR and you can totally tell me off in reviews if you want but I, my friends, am a dreadfully busy bee. School is almost over, but even with that done, I will still have softball, driving stuff, and other sites and stories to attend to, so I will do everything I can to update this on a decent basis. Sorry again for the huge frickin' wait!

**Nowhere Man**

In the morning, the house felt...wary, if that's the right word for it. I'm not quite sure how to describe it, but it was as though something was buzzing under the floorboards and in the walls and especially in my head. It felt like the whole house was bucking underneath me, spinning and unstable. Jonah had avoided me mostly since our incident, but whenever he was around, I did see or sense him, just not in his preferred form. It was usually just a whiff of sulfur, or maybe out of the corner of my eye I would spot a piece of his charred silhouette. I saw through his transparent little plan. He was trying to make himself less appealing to me so that I would leave him alone and I wouldn't be in risk anymore. But by taking himself away from me, I just wanted him that much more. Not only was he a protector, not only was he a guardian, he was a friend, a confidant, and someone that maybe...maybe I could love.

God, it was like that Stephen King story, _Children of the Corn_ that I had read a few months ago. Whispers ringing through every empty space, that paranoid feeling in your bones making you go mad. The fear that something you know you should be able to defeat jumping out from a corner and killing you anyways, regardless of who you were or what you'd done. They didn't care. I knew that the rest of them, the ones that weren't Jonah, they wanted me and Matt dead.

Wendy and I sat in the living room playing cards, a game called Egyptian War, if you've ever heard of it. She and I played dirty, and we knew all each other's tricks. By the end of the game, she won, leaving red marks all over my hands from all her rings (cough, dirty cheater, cough). She had gotten a scratch or two from my fingernails, but ultimately, she ended up victorious.

"So the other night when you, uh..." she broke off, shuffling the cards again so we could play a round of regular War. "...when you, uh, passed out or whatever...we called this priest over and he said...he said he thought this freaky seance Jonah kid was doing everything that happens in the house..." Partially rational and partially irrational anger seeped through my veins.

"He is _not_ doing everything that happens. He's _stopping_ the bad things that could be happening to us." She gave me a quizzical look. I heaved out a sigh. I was going to tell her. I had to tell her.

"Jonah's not the bad guy, here, Wendy. Don't give me that look, I'm not crazy, you know I'm not. Ever since we came here I've seen him. He's the one protecting us, Wendy, there's about a hundred spirits in here that are trying to come after us, but Jonah's the one keeping them away from us. Haven't you noticed? Every time something bad, something _really_ bad could happen, he's always there, he's the one keeping us safe. He cares about us, whether or not you see it. He l–..." I broke off, my hand clenching into a fist. "I've spoken to him, he's my friend." Wendy looked at me as though she couldn't believe her eyes. I swallowed hard.

My shoulders were falling, and my heart was pounding hysterically against my ribcage. I set down my hand of cards and took in a deep breath. He was there again, his cold blue eyes sad and locked with mine. His mouth was set in a thin line under his nose and his hands were fiddling with the suspenders on his pants. He shook his head sadly, almost like he was trying to convince me...but of what? What was I doing that was so wrong? I looked back to Wendy, whose eyes were riddled with concern.

"He's here, isn't he?" she mumbled, and Jonah and I nodded in unison. "Can you show me him?" I looked to Jonah again. He stood up, chewing on his lip uncertainly.

"I don't know if it's possible...she's not in any state, as you and Matt...as you and Matt are," he muttered shamefacedly. I nodded, trying to understand. "I will do my best, Juliet, I will." He shut his eyes and concentrated for a moment, then sat down beside me and took my hand. "Wendy?" he asked softly. Wendy's eyes widened and she flinched. "I'm sorry for frightening you. I...I am only trying to help you all." Wendy opened her mouth, but no words came out. "Wendy, please, I ask only that you at least try to believe me." Wendy cleared her throat and took in a deep breath.

"I'll try," she forced out.

"It's true, I was a medium for Ramsey Aickman during life. I took part in his necromancy. Ramsey did not understand the full wrath of those he had desecrated. One night, during a seance, as I was channeling the spirit of a kindly old woman, her weakness allowed the rest of them to interfere. The power of their anger killed Ramsey and the rest of the sitters. Ramsey said for me to leave, they'd be after me next. They were indeed. I tried to flee, but they held me in. I attempted my last escape through the dumbwaiter, but as I tried to get out through the furnace, they trapped me in and burned me to death. They're still here and they are still angry. They think that Matt and I...they think that he and I are one and the same. He is weak, as I was. I am here to protect you all, and I am doing everything in my power to keep them away from you. I am not strong enough to keep them all away, but I will do everything I can." Wendy stared at him for a moment, letting it all sink in. She looked a little sick, to be honest, but I could tell she was trying to process it all. Slowly she turned to me and nodded.

"Okay," she whispered, her eyes flickering back and forth in between me and Jonah, looking down at our hands. "Okay, I believe you. But, um, can I ask what that's about?" she inquired, pointing down to them. Jonah and I exchanged a long look. I said nothing, but he stepped in for me.

"One will always fall in love with what he cannot have," Jonah muttered. "Juliet is a lovely person, and she does not deserve for me to want her. But something in her reminds me of myself, the part that I like about myself, perhaps the innocence I was unable to retain after joining Aickman in his...horrible rituals. I should never have fallen for her, but I did." A deep flush rose in my neck and cheeks. Jonah let me lean on his shoulder and I did. Wendy slowly eyed the pair of us, before shutting her eyes and nodding.

"Well...I can't say I understand, but if it makes the two of you happy...then I suppose...I, uh, approve?" Wendy looked very confused, most likely wondering how on Earth a ghost, something that shouldn't have existed, could have possibly fallen in love with a real, existing human girl. I swallowed down the strange buzzing feeling rising up in my throat, the feeling that told me I needed to have an explanation or an excuse or a reason or something. You shouldn't need a reason to love somebody, right? Love means never having to make excuses. Right? Love means never needing a reason for loving somebody. Right? Love can't ever be explained, and shouldn't have to be...right?

And when I tried to find an excuse or an explanation or something, I really just couldn't find one. It wasn't because of the obvious things that first popped into my head, like saving me from the other side of me, the woman that demanded I remain thin as a twig and dead as she wanted me to be, and nobody knew her. Nobody understood her, nobody but me and Jonah. She was the poison in my personality, the tragic flaw, the Achilles heel. And Jonah loved me nevertheless. Even though I had her buried to the core of my soul, he loved me anyways. Even though she was anorexic, even though she had control of me sometimes, even though she could have been the darkest entity in the house, darker than anything Jonah had to deal with because she wasn't separate from me, she was _me_, she was imprinted in my soul forever, even though she could control me like her damn marionette, Jonah loved me.

And...I loved him too...right?


	8. She Falls Asleep

**A/N:** Okay, I know I haven't updated recently, but I have indeed been extremely (EXTREMELY) busy. And though that's not an excuse, I have not updated. So here's chapter eight. It's mostly a filler, but things will get more interesting, I guarantee. You're going to learn _her_ name in the next chapter and why exactly Juliet was brought to the Aickman house. So I hope you'll not be too terribly unhappy with me because it's tough trying to get inspired again after it all went away with he who must not be addressed. (No, not Voldemort...Trevor...but that's an entirely different matter, especially now that I'm with–nevermind, I'm ranting) So please be content with this chapter till I get onto the next one, which I promise will be bundles better!

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**She Falls Asleep**

"Jonah. Jonah!" I called, running up the stairs. He appeared beside me, and I leaped about a mile into the air. "Jesus Christ! Jonah, you scare the crap out of me every time." I was half-laughing. He smiled apologetically, standing far away in the doorway of my and Wendy's room. I walked up closer to him, causing him to float farther away. I laughed. "Jonah, what are you doing? Come over here." I waved him over, but he shook his head, his smile growing wider. I put a hand on my hip, cocking my head. "Jonah, you're teasing me."

"I know," he sighed, sitting down on my bed. I sat down next to him, sitting Indian-style on top of my comforter. He held my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You are wonderful, Juliet, I wanted you to know that." I smiled, looking down into my lap. My cheeks started to burn, but as Jonah brushed his fingers along them, cold spread down my face. "And I have never, ever in my existence felt any other way about anyone."

"I–I've never been in...love...either," I said quietly, then looked down into my lap. I felt Jonah scoot closer next to me and an ugly anticipation started to sink in my stomach. _When is she going to come back?_ It was a bad thought, a thought that never should have crossed my mind, but she was always there. Always, aside from the blissful two weeks that she had left me alone. I was so...accustomed to her presence that when she left, it was terribly odd to me. I looked up at him, feeling miserable about _her_ and the awful feeling that one day, one day soon, she'd come back.

"What's the matter, Juliet?" he whispered, reaching to brush a few hairs out of my face. I shook my head, feeling a couple of wet specks trickle down my cheeks. "Juliet, my love, whatever is the matter?" I shook my head again, rubbing furiously at my face with the backs of my hands.

"No...I'm being stupid, I'm just scared...what if she comes back?" I whispered, burying my head in my arms. Jonah took the opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulders, and slowly pull me towards him. I didn't stop him, but I didn't encourage him either. At this point, I think I was just scared that she would come back right at that moment and try to hurt him...

"Juliet, you must listen to me. I will always, always be here to protect you. She will never return to hurt you. Ever." The tears melted into happiness and I melted onto the bed, my eyes drifting up to meet his. "Juliet Annabel DiMarco, I love you. I would do anything and everything for you." My lip quivered and I watched him intently. "I can understand if you do not feel the same for me as I you. It is a strange combination, you and I. But I have never had these feelings for anyone or anything in my being. I–"

And before another word could escape his pale lips, they were covered by mine. We remained locked together in the in-between, not dead nor alive. And in that moment, and though necrophilia is frowned upon in most developed cultures, I realized that I reciprocated those feelings that Jonah had for me. I pulled away softly, resting my hand on his almost non-existent neck.

"I love you, Jonah," I whispered, keeping my face close to his. Our gaze never broke, but his eyes lightened at the sound of my words. "I don't know how...but I l-love you." He smiled weakly, and moved my hair from my face.

"And I love you," he murmured back, pushing the smile further across his lips. But then it disappeared once more and he backed away. "I'm terribly sorry, Juliet...I need some time for myself. I hope you would be able to understand my situation...I'm terribly sorry," he repeated, and in wisps of smoke, he was gone. Then, the worst possible thing that could have happened, did.

-_You knew it couldn't last forever_...


	9. Mad World

**Disclaimer:** Anything that you don't recognize from the original movie is mine. Steal that and face the wrath of the REAL Slim Shady. Yes. That is me.

**Author's Note: **I'm horrendous. I really am. This story (and all my others) are giving me terrific trouble. So I'm going to tell you straight up–they're all going to take a LONG while to be updated. It's your choice if you want to stick with this story, and if you don't want to, I respect that. But I just thought you should know that I'm taking a while to get inspiration and all that. I'm putting priority on this story and _Run For Your Life_ but I may just focus on this one, because that's not getting like ANY reviews. So if you really want, review this one, and if you are interested in that one, let me know. I need to know what the people on here want to read so I can bother publishing them. So if I don't get any reviews on this, I'm not gonna keep updating. Simple as that. Sorry to sound so mean, but I'm telling the truth. :/ On a somewhat lighter note, I've got a feeling you're gonna like this chapter, if you've been following Jonah and Juliet through this. :) Okay, spiel done. Enjoy!

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**Mad World**

I lay draped across my bed, with the door to Wendy's and my room locked. My throat was clenched tightly and the tears were spreading down my face. The toilet in our bathroom had nearly flooded with vomit in the past hour, before it had all swirled into oblivion. She was back. And she had things to tell me. Things she'd whispered in my ear, venom that had crept in through my ears and curled tightly about my brain.

-_I know his story, sweetheart. Every little last secret about him that you'd be too timid and frightened to even ask about. Has he told you about me? What I've learned of him?_

I covered my ears, pulling my knees up to my chest, but the words seeped through, and this time he was no longer with me to reassure me of her.

-_Then again, why should I tell you? You wouldn't believe me if it were mere words I had for you. Come with me, Juliet, and learn what I have learned..._

I began to protest, but before I could, she had her vice grip around my throat and was whisking me off into...nowhere I wanted to be.

We were in the dining room, and exactly where our table was, there was one of the same color, shape, and exact type in its place. The room had a sepia-esque feel to it, and not in a good, rustic way. She was towering beside me, a snake-like smirk on her face and her firm hand curled around my wrist. A racket sounded from the door in front of the stairs and through it came Jonah, smiling and laughing like I'd never seen him do before. And behind him walked her spitting image, but happy-looking and entertained. Her hair was curled into soft brown ringlets, her body clad in a modest brown dress and her face coated in natural makeup. He led her to the table, and his laugh sobered.

"You have to promise me you won't reveal any of what you see or what I tell you to anyone, Marie, ever," he told her calmly, and sat down in one of the spots at the table. She followed, this Marie girl, and sat down beside him. She nonchalantly slipped her hand into his and nodded at him. "I'm not what you think I am, Marie. You see me as merely an assistant to Mr. Aickman." He took in one deep breath and looked seriously at her. "Unfortunately...I'm afraid I'm much more than...just an assistant." His eyes trailed down once more to his hands, refusing her his gaze. She looked at him, trying to appear persuasive. She and Marie were one in the same. It was now that I saw the similarities between Marie's earnest expression and _her_ influential sneer.

"Marie, you remember the stories I used to tell you about...when I was a boy?" he asked softly, and I noticed the fine way his thumb traced over the skin of her hand. My stomach gave an ugly twist, and the _her_ beside me smirked in a sick kind of vindication. Marie nodded, being sure not to make a sound as she stared earnestly into those big blue eyes of his. "For my own reasons...I withheld the truth from you. And I feel that you deserve to hear the truth from me now.

"My parents were Maxwell and Alana Halls. I was born on the thirteenth of January 1909, which, of course, makes me seventeen years old today. My father was very poor. He had just been injured in the factory, and could not work any longer. He relocated my mother and I from New York City to here in Goatswood. Mother took to work, as a maid for the Popescu family, Joseph's parents. Still, there was not enough money for us to live properly. We had met Mr. Aickman a few days before we permanently made our home here, he had helped us financially and had helped finding my mother a job. I asked him if I would be fit to assist him in his studies. I was not much fond of death, but the family was desperate. I became his assistant." Marie nodded understandingly. I tensed as his hand tightened around hers.

"I'm not a normal assistant, Marie. I..._see_ things. Things that most people cannot. I feel things. I've been called a...a medium. A psychic. They pass through me. They do not trust any of the others. I doubt they even trust me. But they will talk to me and identify with me. They show themselves through a thing called 'ectoplasm' and converse with Mr. Aickman and those trying to find them." He withdrew his hand from Marie's and ran it through his hair. "But lately...things have not been going well. They are getting restless, because of what...Aickman...and I have done to their bodies. Desecrating and spoiling them...it's shameful...I feel horrible for what I have done, but I..." He paused to swallow hard on the tears that edged his eyes and shake his head. The next words were spoken in a choked whisper: "...I cannot displease my master."

Marie looked so...understanding. I wanted to be sick.

"I know you can't, Jonah," she said softly, and the pads of her fingertips brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I know you are obliged to Mr. Aickman, and I know that, though you do not wish, you must work for his causes. I understand. I...I'm terribly sorry, Jonah, but I...I must go." She stood abruptly from the table, the feet of her chair scraping backwards over the wood floor. And within a moment, she had fled from the room and the house altogether.

As my head spun violently back into reality, I felt the sour bile rising up in my throat again. She was hissing with small fits of vile laughter. I covered my ears, but the laughing wouldn't stop. My eyes burned. My stomach twisted. Nothing was right and nothing was in line. She was happy. And somewhere, in the back of my numb mind, I was not. I was particularly unhappy, for that matter, and at many things. Unhappy with her, for one, for confirming the fears I'd always put away in the back of my mind. Unhappy with Jonah, for never telling me any of this. And most of all, unhappy, furious, with myself, for believing that I could ever have something even relatively similar to a happy ending.

_-You see? You see? He never loved you. It was me he was trying to get to, through you, I alone was the one with the key to his heart. I _am_ Marie, you goddamned mess, I am Marie Lorraine Campbell, it is I who was promised Jonah Halls, I who was destined to fall for him, I who knew his every secret, as reluctant as he was to reveal them to me. I was the one who held his heart in the palm of my hand, the one who crushed it into a million pieces at my untimely demise. And I have chosen you, you, Juliet DiMarco, as my host to unlock the potential I was capable of all those years ago. You were a perfect target, Juliet, simply perfect. Insecure. Ugly. Disgusting without me. And as I shaped you into myself, I drew you to my great nephew, the one I never met. Peter Campbell. I drew you to his niece, Wendy Hamilton in hope that you would accept her. And you fell into the seams of my plans perfectly. So, thank you, Juliet DiMarco. Thank you_.

My heart was pounding furiously against my ribs. No, no, no, no, no. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

No.

-You're welcome.


	10. Cadence to Arms

**Disclaimer:** I own the things you don't recognize from the movie.

**Author's Note: **Hello? Are there still people reading? If you are...hi. I'm sorry. I really am. I actually just realized that there's this weird thing that interferes with my fanfic-writing and it's called "My Life." I really hadn't known there was one there until very recently and I am tremendously sorry. If you are still reading, I love you bundles and bundles and owe you a million billion trillion cookies. This chapter ought to make things a bit easier, and it's kind of a filler and still kind of a not-filler. It's pretty good in my opinion, at least. I hope you enjoy it. If you need any clarification, to yell at me, or to tell me how slightly less than decent this chapter was, leave a message. Thanks and enjoy!

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**Cadence to Arms**

That next day, I went to the hospital with Matt and Sara for Matt's weekly radiation treatment...and to pick up anti-depressants for me. It turns out my mom sent Sara a letter mentioning my "eating disorder" problems and included a check to buy my prescription from the nearest hospital. She was...really pissed off at me for not saying anything to her, but then she got over it and went to take me to the hospital with her and Matt to get my pills. It was...awkward in the pharmacy, to say the least.

She glanced over through narrowed eyes. "Why didn't you tell me before, Jules?" I bit my lip hard, as not to let the monster within speak out. "Is this why you're always sick? Do you know what happens when people _don't_ take their medications? I mean, honey, there's things we could have done for you if you had just told us. It wouldn't have had to be so hard, honey. We could've done something, baby. It could've been better for you." By the end of her short speech, she was breathless and moisture was collecting in her eyes. I wanted to reach over and wipe the tears away, or shake her to make her stop crying, or hold her or...I don't know. I don't know.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling the familiar trickle of blood leak out from under my teeth. She was watching me again, her usual smirk taking up residence on her perfect face, her thick, rosy lips over glossy white teeth. One of her talons was cutting into my shoulder blade, keeping me in place, in such order that I'd undoubtedly be forced to do her bidding. Sara placed her hand over one of the talons, and I flinched. She withdrew her hand.

"Honey...it's gonna be okay."

"No," I choked through the sobs, clutching my chest, finally exploding. "No, Sara, really, it's not gonna be okay. I'm done, I'm done, it's over." Marie's hissing laugh spilled from between her teeth, and her claws tightened into my shoulders. I grimaced, and with each breath, the claws tightened magnificently. I was surprised that they hadn't cut into me yet. Surprised that they hadn't spilt my blood yet. What was this ugly world?

"Jules, don't say that," Sara whispered, gently grabbing for my hands. She squeezed them with the sweet touch Marie couldn't manage. I wanted to succumb right then and there to the both of them, my happiness to Sara and my being to Marie. What again was this ugly world?

We made our way into the hospital, where Matt parted ways with us to get his radiation treatments, and Sara grasped my wrist, leading me to the pharmacy. She followed close, her iron eyes glinting at every step and every flinch of pain she inflicted upon me.

"Sara," I rasped, glancing down at my wrist. Her eyes followed mine and I tugged away from her an inch, before her grasp relinquished.

"I...I'm sorry, Juliet." She then cast her eyes back to the ground, as if the carpet was a map to my freedom, her freedom, Matt's freedom. She looked back up, this time with tears spilling from the sides. "I talked to the doctor. He told me something...something about you." My stomach churned, and her clucking tongue behind me told me to keep quiet, for she wanted to hear my downfall spoken aloud. "He told me that the patterns...the patterns over the years have indicated your prognosis." I held my breath. "Sweetheart, you have schizophrenia."

My fists clenched over my skirt, forming ugly bunches and whitening my knuckles.

Schizophrenia.

_-Schizophrenia,_ she chuckled, running her long fingernails down my scalp. _-Now that it's been proven how insane you are...Well, at least you know I'm always here for you when you __need me, huh?_

-Shut up. Just shut up.

Her bells clanged as she laughed at me, her nails digging into my back, her refusing to relinquish her tight grip on me. Schizophrenia...it made sense. It made so much sense, I had no idea how I couldn't have figured it out before. Stupid of me, not to have figured it out before. How stupid can I really be? Really?

-_It's up to you to figure out if I'm real or not, sweetheart. It's up to you to figure out if _he's_ real or not. Maybe he's just something I'm giving you to...to make you feel better at the end of the day, if you've been a good girl. But if you're not a good girl, maybe I can take him away just as quickly. You have no power over him, dear. You have no power over anyone. Haven't you seen that by now?_ Her fists clenched into my back, squeezing the life right out of me. Once again my head swirled, and the world went dark.

When I came to, things were murky and sepia again. And we were in the house, she and I and Marie and a new, foreign visitor I'd never seen before. He was a young man, just hardly older than Marie and Jonah with dirty blond hair shorter than Jonah's, and a smile I didn't trust. He proceeded to walk through the kitchen, hands behind his back, inspecting nearly every last detail. Jonah descended the stairs, then stopped and scrutinized the visitor.

"Are you a client of Dr. Aickman's?" he asked, straightening his suspenders, almost self-consciously. The guest, nonplussed, only chuckled and turned about to face him.

"No, actually. I assume you're Jonah Halls?" he said, not particularly in a question form, then continued as if he hadn't asked it at all. "Yes, my name is Jacob Aickman. I am Dr. Aickman's nephew. He's asked me to come visit him this summer." His chuckle echoed lowly through the house, as if the mere sound of his voice shook the house's very foundation. "I understand that there is a young lady who frequents the home, having dealt in a seance or two herself? Marie Campbell, if I am not mistaken?" Jonah frowned ever deeper, his brow furrowing.

"Yes. Marie Campbell is...an acquaintance of mine. May I ask what business you have with her?" Again the unwelcome guest chuckled, folding his arms imperiously over his chest.

"I'm arranged to meet her for dinner later. My parents died and left me a healthy inheritance, which I've been meaning to share with a young woman of generous moral fiber. Since I've arrived in Goatswood, I've heard quite a bit of Marie Campbell, and...being so close in my uncle's house, I suppose it would be a fitting opportunity to court, would it not?" Jacob's smirk only grew, as if he could sense Jonah's discomfort.

"Of course. Sir. I'm afraid Dr. Aickman is on an errand, but I shall alert him of your lodging as soon as he arrives. Shall I show you to the guest room?" He swept his arm back toward the stairwell, face blank and stony. Jacob nodded almost commandingly, and followed Jonah up. They walked the hallway, Jonah leading and inwardly cursing the caller, before he opened up the door to the guest room. "Here you are, sir."

"Much obliged, my friend," he chortled, then strolled in and slammed the door in Jonah's face.

Jonah's image faded to an outdoor scene. The sky was dark, and in a nearly clichéd turn of events, the raincloud above decided that now was the time to drop its load onto the unexpecting victims below. They didn't seem to pay it any attention. The funeral appeared to be for several people, the coffins all lined in a row, one after the other. Likewise, all the names scripted on the signs above the coffins seemed to make perfect sense to all the attendees, except for the name that seemed to be missing: Jonah Halls.

Marie Campbell, her hair tied up under her dark veil, observed the scene. Through her silent and endless tears, the only important detail to her lay ceremoniously above the black gloves that reached up to her elbows. Down on her left ring finger was a ring. Now, a ring to suit Marie Campbell was simple, uncomplicated, thin with perhaps a small gem and her initials engraved daintily within. However, the ring that actually _was_ on her finger had none of the aforementioned qualities. The middle jewel, a diamond, was surrounded by a circle of other tiny, colored jewels, set in a thick gold band with silver detailing and useless inscriptions, tiny words that seemed to be in Latin. Marie fit simple elegance, and this was anything but. It was tawdry, gaudy, ostentatious.

Beside her stood a triumphant Jacob Aickman, his hand closed around her right hand. Though he was at a funeral, the funeral of his own uncle, the man who granted him the ability to get closer to the woman he was now engaged to, he had the audacity to smirk at his uncle's death for his engagement to the woman who didn't love him. It was a grand blessing, of course, that the boy with whom Marie was in love had disappeared after the deaths. Thank goodness for his disappearance.

The wedding was going to be quite as glorious as his fiancée's engagement ring, as bright and shining and pretentious. They would have rich, beautiful, intelligent (perhaps) children and die peacefully together at the ripe old age of 80-something. And no matter what she said, she'd be happy with him. It was no delusion. Congratulations, eh, Mr. and Mrs. Jacob and Marie Aickman?

The scene shifted once more, into an unfamiliar room that I identified as an old bathroom, and though we were still in their time, it remained as dilapidated as it would be today. The wallpaper, crusted over with stains and holes, was peeling in several places, particularly the corners, and hung over the top bar of the shower. A tiny window, to the top west wall of the room, housed spots and patches of mold and mildew. The only part of the room that seemed clean, even delicate, was the sink. It was made of what looked to be just about ivory, so pristine white and shining past the toothpaste residue beside the drain. The faucet dials were some kind of copper alloy, but what took the cake was the small soap holder sitting beside them. It was a simple sculpture, a tiny white porcelain elephant with a red and gold saddle on his back and a stream of water shooting upwards out of his trunk.

The same porcelain elephant was carved intricately into the sides of a dark brown box that sat on the floor between the knees of one Marie Campbell. She was sobbing, her ordinarily perfect chestnut hair strewn across her shoulders in knots and tangles that would never be seen in public. Her makeup too ran down her face, and her nose burned red from her tears. With trembling hands, she picked up the lid of the box, revealing a small pistol.

It as well had the recurrent elephant pattern, carved into what seemed to be a precious, precious silver. Marie expelled a light sigh, then took it by the handle.

"Father keeps it by his bedside," she whispered, leaving me wondering why she was talking to herself. Or perhaps it was her other self, just walking me through it, as she knew just how dull I was–but that's beside the point, of course. But perhaps this was in the original scene, the scene that was real life. Perhaps Marie was almost as odd as I had been, the type that mutters every meaningless thought that ran through her head. "Father keeps it by his bedside, in case of robbery, in case someone breaks in." She drew in another deep breath, then expelled it once more.

She drew it out of the box, her quivering arm rising as the pistol found its way into her mouth. Her tongue pressed against the cool metal. Her index finger stumbled toward the trigger. Her thumb cocked back the hammer.

_Goodbye, Jonah, goodbye, Mother, goodbye, Father, good riddance, you stupid blockhead Jacob Aickman. To hell with me and to hell with all of you. I'm afraid you've lost me for the last time, Mother and Father. Aickman, I'd widely appreciate you going to a different sector of hell than I, preferably the Inner Ring of Level Seven, where the madmen violent against God and nature go. Where you belong, lying upon the desert sand beneath the torrents of flames. Meanwhile I will rest peacefully in the Middle Ring, where at least my thorned bush figure can be easily fed upon by the ugly, awful Harpies. But Jonah, dear Jonah, I pray your soul be allowed into the opposite of our predicament, that you be allowed home to heaven. Where you belong._

Her index finger stuttered on the trigger, and her eyes slowly fell shut. She drew breath a final time, then her finger abruptly pulled down, a rush of adrenaline flooding through her veins–

_Click. Click._


End file.
